


Beyond The Place The Moonlight Illuminates

by vitanostra



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: M/M, SUPER EMO AND ANGSTY I HAVE NO EXCUSES LMAO, could be slightly way too OOC for some people preference so read at your own risk, set right after the event of S02E13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitanostra/pseuds/vitanostra
Summary: Seven Blasphemous Deaths gives Shāng two parting gift, one in the form of one of his deepest fear, one that the man didn't even realize he had in the first place, and then—was forced to face, and one in the form of an answer to a simple secret, that Lǐn hides.





	Beyond The Place The Moonlight Illuminates

 

 

> The night falls, and along with the darkness that surrounds the hour, snowflakes rains downs quietly, one by one, each of them wrapping all the soil beneath with serene white. The smell of cold weather hangs in the air, in a pleasant, nostalgic way, adding the melancholy to the night.
> 
> From their room inn terrace, a glass of sake at hand, Shāng gazes upon the pure white ground. Before he knew, his mind already wanders, and without his permission, his heart already spells out his deepest thought for him---
> 
>   
>  _Why is that, looking at this snowfall gives me such strange, yet peaceful and serene feeling_ — _just like how I always feel when looking at him_ , even though I will never flat out admitted this out loud to him.
> 
>   
>  With a glance from the corner of his eyes, Shāng can see the man in question, just inside right in the center of the room, deep in his slumber. His face, which is far more somber compared to his more lively and haughty counterpart when he is awake, is beautifully illuminated dimly by the natural light from outside, where the faint, subtle brilliance from the snow moon seeps into the room through the little bit of the sliding, wooden door that Shāng left a little bit open. _Like a marble_ , his pale skin is bathed by the moonlight, _like this world's most exotic peacock_ , his eyelashes that sits beautifully curled atop his closed eyes, and _like a freshly blossomed rose_ , his cheekily red lips that is slightly open, so very inviting.
> 
>   
>  Catching a glimpse of Lǐn in such a defenseless, vulnerable state, just akin to a sleeping kitten, unbothered with anything else going in this world, Shāng could not help but let out a smile.
> 
>                    And his eyes, they _lingers_.  
>                     And his time, they _stops_.
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  "Wouldn't it be best to stay the night elsewhere? You already inconvenienced Juǎn Cán Yún and Dān Fěi so much by pawning off The Sorcerous Sword Index to him— Let's not bother them further." said Lǐn, suddenly, as if he had been waiting for the opportune moment to said it.
> 
>  
> 
> Despite Lǐn saying it sounding so nonchalantly, there is always this underlying hint of teasing on his voice that Shāng couldn’t keep but feels so grating in his ear. And so, hearing Lǐn’s deadpan fact masked with his usual jestering manner of speaking, is poking at his consciousness and Shāng could not help but feel ticked off, “Oi— You! It’s not like I have much of a choice! If only you would have helped me properly since the very beginning;“
> 
>   
>  “Now, now. It’s true that it was risky holding on to The Sorcerous Sword Index, but I agreed to it nevertheless. We could never say no to Sir Shāng, and we really don’t mind at all. Please feel free to stay here.” Juǎn intervened, all in a way that seemed _way too_   familiar with the two bickering 'style', holding his ground and providing defense for Shāng against Lǐn remark.
> 
>   
>  “Juǎn is right. Sir Shāng, Sir Lǐn, and Sir Làng are welcomed at our house any time any day. It’s been such a long time since we had this many guest, The Dān Clan would be so honored to host over your stay.” added Dān Fěi. Hearing the wife he is very proud of speaking in such regal manner, Juǎn could not help but to giggling all by himself beside Dān Fěi, admiring and fawning over how elegant his wife is and how lucky he is for fate to be woven around in a way that allow him to ever meeting her.
> 
>   
>  Getting Dān Fěi and Juǎn support, Shāng felt a sense of prideful boast surging inside him, that tricks his mind into thinking he is winning this argument already. He casted a sideway glance with an additional naughty smirk and a playful scoff toward Lǐn, whom just nonchalantly brushed his attempt at being prideful off by bringing his pipe upward and smoke through it, as with his usual business.
> 
>   
>  That's when Lǐng Yá, suddenly chimed in, “Okay, but isn’t Pipe Guy right though? No matter how much we would be delightful to spend the night here, but Dān Fěi and Cán Yún buddy—you guys have done so much for us just by agreeing to keep The Sorcerous Sword Index safe. It would be rude to inconvenience them further. They just finished rebuilding their holy shrine, to make them host us too at the same time is just too much. Even if we could just get by with anything, sleeping on any place, eating any food, but seeing as kind as they are, I doubt they'd just let us do that.” Làng followed by strumming Lǐng Yá in a gentle melody, as a sign that he too, agrees with his instrument just said and also, _with Lǐn_.
> 
>   
>  Hearing Lǐn getting support from Làng and Lǐng Yá, _out of all people_ in this room, startled Shāng so much. "Wh- what?" he let out exasperated shock. But deep down, _actually_ , Shāng could not help but agree, too, with what the three of them said. He never actually disagreed what Lǐn said in the first place—actually, he was just pissed that Lǐn was bringing up the fact of him getting Juan in potential danger as an ecxuse, and how Lǐn picked into one of his most deepest regret in this whole ordeal—letting The Sorcerous Sword Index and Seven Blasphemous Deaths mess big enough it pushes him getting a young husband into what could possible be a death's door—that’s why he retaliated Lǐn’s statement in the first place. But Lǐn _is_ right.
> 
>   
>  Putting his pride aside, Shāng finally gave in, “Thank you, Juǎn, Dān Fěi , I really appreciate it, but these guys are right. We have troubled you too much. I could not muster enough words to say how thankful I am for your guys help. We really should get going now, before the day is dark.” Shāng finally said. Dān Fěi and Juǎn Cán Yún looked at each other, it was apparent that they were disheartened at first because they were very looking forward to finally have Shāng under their newly rebuilded holy ground, but they accepted his decision nevertheless. Shāng could not help but notice the way these two unconsciously nodded along every single his words, which show despite how they’ve much more matured over the whole Miè Tiān Hái’s ordeal, they are still young and sometimes, _naive_ —in their good and endearing way.
> 
>   
>  “If you say so, Sir Shāng. But please don’t forget my words before, Sir Shāng, Sir Lǐn, Sir Làng and Líng Yá, the four of you are welcome at any time here, I really mean my words.” Dān Fěi replied.
> 
>   
>   And so, the trio bid goodbye toward the couple, and headed out of The Sword Forging Shrine, to where their foot and their destiny leads.
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  His foot, maybe was strung along Shāng and Làng's path, walking along the trodden, wooden forest, but his mind wander elsewhere. Lǐn has been carefully examinin g Yān Yuè all the way, flipping it upside and down, sometimes checking his robe pockets, as if he had been forgetting something or missing something of his belonging.
> 
>   
>  Despite being several steps ahead, and despite the sun setting just moments ago. dimming them their natural source of light and their vision getting darker as they have yet reached nearby village, Shāng could not help but notice the white-haired man unusual, erratic behavior.
> 
>   
>  After a few more passage, and seeing Lǐn still lingering way far behind, Shāng could not help but stopped his track, and turned around to took his time noticing Lǐn from far ahead. As he guessed, Lǐn didn't even notice that he had stopped walking. Làng, bringing Lǐng Yá along with him, who catch up with Shāng already, could not help but wonder, too.
> 
>   
>  "Is something the matter, Shāng?" Làng asked, through Lǐng Yá.
> 
>   
>  "Hmm, nothing. It's just that Lǐn has been so unusually preoccupied. Let me go if he needs something." answered Shāng, as he stepped forward toward where Lǐn was standing. Làng nodded and followed him shortly.
> 
>   
>  "Is there something wrong, Lǐn? Did you forget something back at Dān Fěi's place?"
> 
>   
>  Lǐn was visibly startled, didn't even notice that the two other man were in front of him already. He thought he already distanced himself enough to make them not notice his business, but given the two prowess, maybe it was a fool on his side to hope that a mere few distance was enough to not make them notice.
> 
>   
>  "No—all my belongings are here. Everything is _fine_." answered Lǐn erronously, and yet, his body language still giving away and telling that there was something _off_.
> 
>   
>  "Then? Why have you been acting weird ever since a while ago?" Shāng refused to give up and presses the matter, accepting no half-truth answer from the erudite man.
> 
>   
>  "It's nothing for you to be concerned about—"
> 
>   
>  There was this unspeakable uncertainness and uneasiness, on Lǐn's way of speaking, that Shāng noticed, that he could not put in words to describe, but all Shāng certain is that he had never heard and never felt that kind of _nervousness_ on Lǐn's words, ever. Shāng nevertheless, was taken aback by such level of perturbation on the thief's behalf, and as he sighed, he realized that maybe he was too rough on his way of inquiring Lǐn.
> 
>   
>  "Why Lǐn, do you need something?" Shāng asked, again. This time, in a gentler voice. _I hope he would trust me and spell it out for me this way_ , hoped Shāng.
> 
>   
>  "Yeah man, just spit it out. We are going to help you. It's still a matter of time until the next village, and judging from this shady bleak ass forest, and the fact that it's night already, I don't think splitting off before we reach a populous area is a wise choice." Lǐng Yá chimed in.
> 
>   
>  "It's best if we are going to stay together until we reach the village." added Làng also, voicing his opinion.
> 
>   
>  Unexpectedly getting concern from his companions, is taking Lǐn aback. He felt it would be too rude to not conceal the matter when the three of them are pursuing him on it, so Lǐn had no choice but to reveal the source of his agitation, even though _only partially_ , of course.
> 
>  
> 
> "As a matter of fact... I'm running out some of herbs and oilments I need for my pipe... It's hard to find them among the plants that grows in a common forest frequently traveled like this, and it's not like we can find a marketplace out in wilderness like this, so it's fine." Lǐn explained, _just enough_ to satiate their curiosity and answer the question, for now.
> 
>   
>  "Hah?!?!?!! You are still thinking of smoking your bongpipe in the middle of a god damn forest like this?!?!?!" Lǐng Yá was the first to barraged with his unfiltered remark upon Lǐn confession.
> 
>   
>  But Shāng, unbothered with Lǐng Yá's yapping, knew something was wrong seeing Lǐn is actually this disturbed and thrown off. The bearded man tried his best to read Lǐn's face, and despite the latter obvious attempt at hiding his uneasiness from showing on his expression, as Shāng guts would tell him, it's no mistake that there was something different with the white-haired man usual air. True, Lǐn still masked his crippling uneasiness with his haughty mask as usual, but something in the surface cracks that let Shāng slips enough into see that there is something greater that actually bothers Lǐn, which explains his erratic behaviour earlier. Lǐn, _desperately_ needs those herbs, right now, despite whatever reason he conceals.
> 
>   
>  Still puzzled, Shāng tried to reason with Lǐn's unusual—even borderline _illogical_ action to his standard. He is speaking about the Enigmatic Gale, after all. So, Shāng tried to look into this manner from another point of view, and turned his attention to Yān Yuè, whom Lǐn has been meticulously examining from a while ago. Lǐn said he needed the herbs for his, ever so faithful dearly pipe, and as the manner of all tools, all tools _needs_ proper maintenance. No matter how high quality, how versatile, how useful an instrument is, if it's owner lacks to care for his tool properly from time to time, then said instrument is bound to crumble, too. Judging from how they just finished a battle with a psychopathic former monk in tandem with one of the most dangerous demon sword hailing from his Sorcerous Sword Index, Shāng deduced that it would makes sense that Lǐn, too, would be in urgent need to tend to his sword that moonlights as his pipe.
> 
>   
>  "Can't you wait until we reach the village? If luck would have us, maybe some store vendor could still be open, and you can find what you need for your _sword_ there."
> 
>   
>  Lǐn nodded, and as the trio would have agreed, they continue their journey.
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  But alas, luck would not have The Phantom Bird after all, for tonight.
> 
>   
>  By the time they reached their destination village, it had been too late of an hour. All street vendors and shops are closed, leaving only a handful of few food place and an inn open. So the trio took up to the nearest inn, hoping to secure a roof over their head for tonight, at least.
> 
>   
>  "What to do? There are the three of you, but there is only one room left. If you don't mind, you can take the room. Luckily, however, the room left is one of our bigger room, so even with the three of you, it would not be too stuffed up. How is it, Sir?" explained the inn lady. Làng glanced towards Shāng's direction, asking for confirmation. Shāng nodded to Làng, as a sign to take the room and proceed with the payment.
> 
>   
>  Meanwhile, Shāng Bù Huàn could only sighed, and he, carefully, as careful as he could, tried to take a glimpse on his white-haired companion standing on his right who failed in search of said herbs vendor.
> 
>   
>  Shāng tried, tried to glimpse on Lǐn, but to no avail. With Lǐn's back facing him, Shāng could not see nor make of what expression Lǐn is making upon knowing he could not get his necessary ingredient to tend to his sword.
> 
>   
>  _Tch— Actually ever seeing this guy getting confused like a poor lost little kitten like this, why does I could feel how lonely he is right now, I just want to—_
> 
>   
>  "How is it, Vape Guy? All the store are closed already, what are you gonna do?" Lǐng Yá shouted, unknowingly interrupting Shāng from his train of thought. Làng had finished the transaction with the inn keeper already, and walked his way toward Shāng and Lǐn from the inn front counter.
> 
>   
>  "As it would happen, since I can not get my necessary herbs needed for my pipe here, I am going to continue the journey to the next village. So, if you guys would excuse me—" as sleek as he could, Lǐn tried to wriggled out his way. But Shāng read his movement one step back already, and grabbed the white-haired man right hand, as swift as said white-haired man tried to escape.
> 
>   
>  "Don't tell me you are going to continue walking in this dead of night." said Shāng, abruptly, his tone cold and demanding.
> 
>   
>  "Is there something the matter with that? I can go by just fine-"
> 
>   
>  "Don't kidding me! We just had a freaking battle with a demon sword this morning, no matter how strong you are, wouldn't it be proper to take a good rest tonight? Just spend the night in this village together, tomorrow morning we can go to the market and get whatever you need! You are free to roam wherever you want after that!"
> 
>   
>  Surprised, Lǐn's eyes could not help but widen over Shāng's outburst, because he did not expect this kind of objection at all from him. Lǐn thought he could slip his way out of them easily. But ever since Shāng relentlessly questioned him earlier in the forest, Lǐn should have known better.
> 
>   
>                      _Why? I need to go right now; after all, you always dislike me chasing you around all of this time, This time, just when I desperately need to go this time— Why? I want to go now_ —
> 
>   
>  For a moment, just for a fraction of second, his pair of ruby red eyes, Lǐn's locked his eyes with Shāng's greyish orbs. And _the conclusion_ , _the answer_ , was all _there_.
> 
>   
>  _I don't ever want you to see me in that pitiful, miserable state, ever. Out of all people. Why, you. Why, now._
> 
>   
>  Cornered, but Lǐn refuses to spell out the answer to Shāng, whom obviously demanded it. And so, Lǐn did what Lǐn best. Lying.
> 
>   
>  "There is only one room, Sir Shāng. My staying, certainly would be uncomfortable for your other benevolent two companion from Xi You. As I recall, from previous events, we had certain incompatibility—"
> 
>   
>  "Listen man, don't make it about us when it's about _you_. We are never complaining about you staying the night with us." and of course, it took Lǐng Yá hard, unconstrained, deadpan snark to encounter Lǐn's lie.
> 
>   
>  "Please help me out, Lǐn. Stay here, with us." Shāng grip on Lǐn's arm tightened, almost, too tight, in a _desperate_ way, refused to let him go, at all.
> 
>   
>  Lǐn closed his eyes as he turned his head sideway, as if, with another look into Shāng's eyes, it would burn him.
> 
>   
>  "Then, if you say so."
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  Làng and Lǐng Ya has taken their hold over the inside room, reminded how light-sleeper Làng is, as he is so easily startled during his sleep even to the slightest sound, Shāng had persuaded Lǐn to let Làng take the and, the former agrees. Then, it just so happened that he and the white haired man, shares the two mattress that is laid out in the middle of the bigger portion of the room.
> 
>   
>  The three proceed and went to bed just around the same time, but Shāng could not help but feeling a little high-strung, his body refusing to rest just yet, and so, he sneaked out to order himself a good bottle of sake from the inn-keeper, and find himself enjoying the beautiful snow moon from the inn terrace with a glass of said refreshment at hand.
> 
>   
>  That is, until certain, other, equally breathtaking view, pulls his attention away from the quiet moon that hovers the midnight horizon that hour.
> 
>   
>  Catching a glimpse of Lǐn in such a defenseless, vulnerable state, just akin to a sleeping kitten, unbothered with anything else going in this world, Shāng could not help but let out a smile. He somehow, feels so smug over successfully getting himself a prize of this view. Well, as the events unfolded earlier proves, Shāng had to put up quite fight to get to spend one more night with the enigmatic man, after all, before Lǐn wander away, _again_ , to God knows where doing God knows what.
> 
>   
>                           And his eyes, _they lingers_.  
>                           And his time, _they stops_.
> 
>   
>                          _Look at him, isn't he is so unbelievably cute when he is quiet and stay still for a second_.
> 
>   
>  That didn't last long, though.
> 
>   
>  Suddenly, Lǐn jerks in his sleep, and little bullets of sweats starting to form around his forehead. He stayes still, nor is he awake from his sleep due to his movement earlier, but then the slender-bodied man starts muttering muffled, unclear gibberish in his sleep.
> 
>   
>  Shāng is startled, and only could stares at Lǐn in half disbelief, and half fear. It takes him a second to gathers himself, before he snaps himself back into reality. _I have to help him_. Carefully, quietly, Shāng puts his sake glass down, and as soundless as he could, he open the rolling wooden door to make way for himself getting inside the room, and he brings himself closer to the rolled mattress, where Lǐn is.
> 
>   
>  "Lǐn, are you alright?"
> 
>  
> 
> Of course, _silence_.
> 
>   
>  _Was he injured at all during our fight?_ That doesn't seem like the case, a wound from that kind of fight against a proficient warrior of Lóu Zhèn Jiè level, wielding Seven Blasphemous Deaths on top of that, Shāng is bound to notice it sooner. Even a peerless martial artist like Shāng himself, if he were the one injured, he would not be able to keep the state of hiding his wound for this long. In any case, Lǐn doesn't seem to be physically injured at all in any way. Then, is it a nightmare? Does his nightmare is always _this_ severe that it affected him like this? But this doesn't seem just like your regular nightmare, actually, Lǐn does not even strike him as the type who would get nightmare at all in the first place. _So what is it?_
> 
>   
>  Before Shāng manages to get anywhere with his answer, Lǐn is getting worse before his eyes. His eyes are clenched way too tight, his eyebrows burrowing, and now both of Lǐn's palms are fisted so hard, his nails deep into his skin, just from seeing it Shāng is afraid he would hurt himself. The helpless man body is all whole curled up, as if something, some kind of invisible, dark forces, are hugging Lǐn tightly from behind in his sleep. The blanket that covers his body, his sleeping robe, and his long, silk white hair, are all crumpled and uneven due to his jerky movement in his sleep.
> 
>   
>  And now, Lǐn is writhing, the sounds he makes like a suppressed cry of pain. As if he is writhing in pain, but he is somewhat conscious and is afraid of being too noisy, so, it comes out as a subdued wailing. His breath are uneven, and raspy, with his mouth quietly muttering jumbled words. His sweating are getting worse, because the weather is cold outside, and yet Lǐn's whole face is shiny and slick from his sweats.
> 
>   
>  In the face of what is happening right now in front of him, witnessing Lǐn, visibly, crying out in agony and in silence during his sleep, Shāng can only stare, in a blank, in trance-like state, unable of commanding his body to do anything.
> 
>   
>                            _What is wrong with you_.
> 
>   
>                          _Please, tell me what is wrong with you, so I can help you_.
> 
>   
>  Whether he realizes it or not, nor he wants to admit it or not, Shāng could not help but feeling that his eyes are getting a little bit too warm.
> 
>   
>                            _See, you helped me finding an antidote for Xie Yingluo's poison, so tell me, what I have to do right now, so you could feel better_.
> 
>   
>                            _Fuck, you always looks so smug and so ahead of everyone else, always look like you never really ever need help from someone else, and now I really don't know what to do when you are looking like this_.
> 
>   
>  Not knowing else what to do, Shāng just quietly closes over the door behind him tightly. His glass and a bottle of sake he purchased earlier, he care not about it now, and left it outside, probably will freeze overnight, and moves into the mattress. He lies down beside Lǐn, and gently, he put his right hand over Lǐn's tightly clenched fists, and tap over it quietly, over and over again. It does seems to help easing of whatever bothering Lǐn right now, since Lǐn's frequency of muttering some words lessened now, but he is still tensed up, still whimpering, still sweating, in other words, _still suffering_. Shāng second guess the notion of him hugging Lǐn and cooping him up, in fear of waking him up, but he quickly casts aside his doubts a second later. Shāng doesn't care if Lǐn wakes up right now, if his actions will selfishly wakes him up right here _right now_ , if it means Lǐn can be _free_ from his nightmare.
> 
>   
>  And so, as Shāng looked into Lǐn, so softly, unknowingly with the most fond gaze, reserved for an occasion so rare he himself does not notice he has such reservoir to be that melancholy on his fibre of being, he pulls Lǐn, lean, _currently_ the most _fragile_ his body has ever looked, closer to him, and hugs him tightly in his embrace. He lets Lǐn's head rest on his shoulder, and with a gently caress, he strokes down his silky, long white hair, over and over again.
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  Amidst the falling snow, The Buddha Statue looks so lonely, if not for the bright red umbrella beside him, faithfully accompanying him, shielding him from the snow. Across the Buddha, there lies a big, lush tree, with its thick green leaves covered with equally thick white snow. The ground around them, everything else, was pure white, endless snow, falLǐng one by one like a trickle from the heaven above.
> 
>   
>  Shāng's eyes twitches, and he regains his vision after rubs his eyes several times, before everything seemed like a blurred picture to him.
> 
>   
>                        _This Buddha Statue... This big tree in front of it... Is this... The place where I first met Lǐn?_
> 
>   
>  Before Shāng seems to be gaining any answer to question, his nose suddenly picks up this stench in the air; and suddenly, an uneasy feeling creeped all over Shāng's body— the all-too-familiar-smell, of fresh blood, that he loathes with his entire being the most in this world, this cursed fragrance that will forever haunts him for all eternity until the end of time, a constant reminder of all the lives of the people he had taken.
> 
>   
>  And, _a body_.
> 
>   
>  Under the tree, the very same tree, where he sat upon their first meeting, when Shāng was drenched wet in a thunderstorm, and he was casually waiting for the rain to stop pouring, smoking from his ubiquitous Yān Yuè, bidding his time for the opportune moment to rope Shāng into his so called adventure.
> 
>   
>  But the difference this time, is that he is not sitting. Lǐn was not sitting, instead, just right there, a few steps across Shāng, in front of him, as he is lying in the frozen escapades, amidst the fleeting snowfall. Yān Yuè, on its pipe from, is beside him, as faithfully as ever, yet abandoned as frozen ice frost slowly forming around it.
> 
>   
>                      _His pale skin_ , used to be glowing, like a marble, and lit with all his mischievousness, now nothing but cold and icy.
> 
>   
>                    _His eyes_ , the blazing fiery red laced with intricately beautiful eyelashes, those pair of rubies which always taunts Shāng with nothing but ever knowing stares and playful winks, now only hollowly looking into the grey sky that spreads above them.
> 
>   
>                      _His lips_ , usually so talkative and yet so seductive— now tainted with a stain of deep red of blood that stretches into his chin.
> 
>   
>   And a pair of brown, weary orbs, with thousands of thoughts racing into his mind right now; hoping— praying, that none he sees right now, is real.
> 
>   
>  "You've got to be kidding me, right."
> 
>   
>  The next thing Shāng knows, is that his legs are already rushing, with almost leap-like strides, he runs toward where Lǐn is. He lunged his body toward Lǐn's, a handful of piled snow scattered as a result due to the impact, and in a second, his hands are already, _desperately_ , cradling into the empty vessel in front of him, hoping to give Lǐn some of his warmth, so that he is not cold _anymore_.
> 
>   
>  And in a matter of second, Shāng's palm are covered in deep red. _Where is all of this blood even coming from?_ asked Shāng, desperately. That's when his hand gives him the answer for the question he asked, when he treaded Lǐn's back, where he find a stab wound, deep pierced his chest into his back.
> 
>   
>  "Lǐn—"
> 
>   
>  There was no response.
> 
>    
>  "Lǐn—"
> 
>   
>  Just the empty, quiet sound of falling snow, seems to be accompanying them.
> 
>   
>  "Lǐn—"
> 
>   
>  Nothing.
> 
>   
>  Shāng could not hold back whatever it is that he is desperately holding back anymore, and he could feel, his eyes are slowly getting warmer and warmer, tears bubbling, rushing in to leave his eyes. Shāng bit his lip, trying to represses an array of emotions, of anger, of sadness, of disbelief, hopelesness, desperation, that all surging and raging within his very core.
> 
>   
>                      _Regret_.
> 
>   
>  _You regret it, doesn't you?_
> 
>   
>   An unknown voice creeps into Shāng's head, reading out his most locked, deepest, secret thought out loud.
> 
>   
>                  _Just a slightest bit of mistake during your fight together against Lóu Zhèn Jiè and Seven Blasphemous Death, and this is how he could end up looking, Shāng._
> 
>   
>                    _How the feel of his lifeless body, drenched and dyed in red with his blood in your hand, Shāng Bù Huàn? And that you, powerless, unable, to stop any of ill fate that befell him, rendered to nothing in front of preordained event that would rob him his time in this world._
> 
>   
>                      _Stop it_. Please _, stop it_. Shāng is begging; to his own consciousness.
> 
>   
>                    _Why? It's true isn't it, Shāng Bu Huan? You invite danger no matter how far you run and no matter how subtlely you tried to hide. That you danced with The God Of Death himself with every step you take. No matter how strong, how peerless you are, can you always assure to save the people you care about, each time, without fail?_
> 
>   
>  Shāng buries his face, low, burrowing down on Lǐn's nape.
> 
>   
>  "My— my! This is such an exemplary spectacle, indeed! I did not regret going over such lengths to have this spectacular view, at all!" An all too familiar, woman voice, suddenly exclaimed.
> 
>   
>  Seven Blasphemous Deaths.
> 
>   
>  "That voice... You— Seven Blasphemous Deaths! Is that you? This is a nightmare, right? This whole nightmare is your doing, isn't it?!?!" Shāng wastes no second to inquiry her. She was not visible, but her voice, her demonic presence that Shāng knew and feel all too familiar by all this time carrying her on The Sorcerous Sword Index, it was without a mistake, she.
> 
>   
>  "Umu, as impatient as ever, Shāng Bù Huàn. Now, now, how do I answer a question, when said question poses two answer, yes and no." Seven Blasphemous Deaths definitely has the time of her life, enjoying taunting over her nemesis like _this_.
> 
>   
>  "Curse you—" Shāng's very visible frustation is only followed with another, demonic laughter.
> 
>   
>  "Cut me some slack, Seven Blasphemous Deaths!"
> 
>   
>  "Sweet dear Shāng; let me explain. Yes, I did this, I conjure this nightmare, specifically for you. Consider it as a parting gift, Shāng Bù Huàn. After what you did to me, all those years, sealing me up on that wretched, endless darkness—and only when I'm finally free you are hounding to send me back into that never-ending nightmare of nothing but pitch-black abbys!"
> 
>   
>  "And now, I'm stuck in the bottom of this ravine. Well, at least, thanks to Lóu, I don't necessarily have to go back into your prison of ink again, but I can't get anywhere in this state either, so consider me giving you this nightmare,—in the form of you having to face your loved one dead corpse and your helpless, sorry soul unable to even lift a finger to relive them of their pain—as a farewell gift, you old boy. I can't go bothering you for the next several years or even millenia anyway, so have some respect and accept this present!"
> 
>   
>  "You, madness! In what world someone will consider an image of your loved ones dying as a gift, you—"
> 
>    
>  "In my kind of world, at least. So just shut up and take it. I have a good laugh seeing you desperately crawling into that boy's body anyway. Isn't this boy the one who mainly helped you fight against Lóu? It took the four; wait no— _five_ of you—including The Night of Mourning, to go against me and Lóu, such impertinent weaklings"
> 
>   
>  Feigning silence, Shāng only gritted his mouth, his body all trembled with rage. He intently stared into the tree in front of him, as if Seven Blasphemous Deaths has manifested there, and focused all of his murderous intent into the poor, unknowing tree, all the while still clutching into Lǐn's body, even though she just explains it was just a nightmare, because to Shāng, the feeling of Lǐn's cold body still feels all way too real to his hand, and he refuses to let him go no matter what. Seeing Shāng burning with such rage all the while being so desperately refusing to let go the body on his embrace is sending an electic pleasure into Seven Blasphemous Death psyche, she laughs even more.
> 
>  
> 
> "Now, let me explain. _This_ nightmare, this one, I conjured up with every bit of my last energy specifically for _you_ , my dear Shāng. As for the other answer, no, I didn't set up the other nightmare. That one is that boy's very own doing." explained Seven Blasphemous Deaths after she had her fill of laugh.
> 
>   
>  Shāng curled his eyebrow, all in confusion, "What? What other nightmare?" when the answer registers to him just a second after he finishes his question—ah, the nightmare Lǐn _is_ having.
> 
>   
>  "Does it finally dawns on you? You poor boy." Seven Blasphemous Deaths laughs— again. She really, really seems to be having the time of her life right now, just like when she drains people life force. But Shāng does not care, for all Seven Blasphemous Deaths maniacal laughter, all of it dissipates and disappears into oblivion on his ears. Because there is _only_ Lǐn, and _only_ Lǐn on his mind right now.
> 
>   
>  In this dream, cursed nightmare world, that Seven Blasphemous Deaths has specifically builds for Shāng as a farewell gift, Lǐn is still hollow and lifeless on his embrace, and on the real world, Lǐn is still deep into his excruciating, endless misery of nightmare. In either world, he is _still_ suffering, and in _both_ world, Shāng is powerless to protect him, and he fails him, either way.
> 
>   
>                      _How can I get you out of from your nightmare, Lǐn. Tell me, how_.
> 
>   
>  Suddenly, Seven Blasphemous Deaths sighs. "As an additional gift, since your reaction of receiving my surprise present exceeds my expectation, let me answer your agony for you, boy."
> 
>   
>  "See, this boy, I am certain he has some kind of illusion trick up into his sleeve, isn't he? That's what he used to trick Lóu during our battle, and also I experienced it too briefly when I was with that Xiē Yīngluò woman. His illusion tricks is built into and relies heavily on his pipe heavily, am I wrong?"
> 
>   
>  Shāng shakes his head upon Seven Blasphemous Deaths question, confirming that her hypothesis is right. Cornered into a corner, since he himself is helpless at this point, Shāng decides to listen to what Seven Blasphemous Death has to say, after all. It could be something useful to helping Lǐn.
> 
>   
>  Seven Blasphemous Death is making a '-tch' sound, sensing that Shāng still doesn't get her point across even after she gives him a considerable amount of hint to the final answer. "My-my, you are as dense as ever, don't you? Now, consider this. If he can cast his illusion into other people, what makes it that he can not cast the same illusion unto himself? I'm guessing that this boy has been using his trick on himself so he can sleep peacefully at night without his hounding nightmare. But, something happened that makes him unable to use his apparition trick on himself now, hence the relapse of the nightmare."
> 
>   
>  A glimmer of hope gleams in Shāng eyes, as everything Seven Blasphemous Deaths says clicks in and just gives him the answer he needed. He looked helplessly into Lǐn, the man on his embrace, and then to his pipe, which has been lying faithfully beside him as rainfall of realization heaves his heart. _So the herbs he was looking for— was it not for Yān Yuè but for himself?_
> 
>   
>   "Thank you, I guess—" said Shāng, kind in a muffled voice, but he also makes it clear so that Seven Blasphemous Deaths could hear him. Half ashamed, but also sincere.
> 
>   
>     "Mmmhhh? Did you just, thank me? Ahahahahahahah you are as annoying yet as interesting as ever, Shāng Bù Huàn!"
> 
>   
>     "Well, your explanation certainly helps, so I owe you for it and you have my thanks for that."
> 
>   
>  "Ufufufu, very well. This last-moment trip certainly has been far more entertaining than I initially expected. I will consider us even, Shāng Bù Huàn. I will rest at the bottom of this ravine, until the day someone dares to come down; to tresspass and walk upon this hellhole, and I could walk under the light again. Until then, you are free from my wrath and rage, Shāng Bù Huàn."
> 
>   
>  Shāng gives a nod, a sign that he accepts and agrees with Seven Blasphemous Deaths condition, without him needing to say a word, as he is sure as hell of her ability to pry into his deepest mind and hear his answer loud and clearly. After that, everything went into a darkness.
> 
>   
>  *******
> 
>   
>  His eyelids flutter, as a beam of warm sunshine ray fall upon his face and wakes him up from his, well—not so pleasant sleep after all, as it was riddled with his usual nightmares.
> 
>   
>  _The nightmares of his pasts, of his sins_. _All well too deserving for someone who makes his daily trade with tricking and lying to people, huh_.
> 
>   
>  Lǐn let out a small chuckle, as he laughs upon himself inside his mind. _Next time, make sure your herbs ratio is properly accounted for, so when you just finish using them up to rope some enemies, you will have some left for yourself by the end of the day before you have time to replenish your supplies, you fool_.
> 
>   
>  Lǐn takes a deep breath, and sort his thought. He made up his mind last night before he went to sleep, and resigned himself to the idea of anything, whatever the other three might be seeing on while he is sleeping without his medication. The erudite, apt man, also of course, had prepared some well-cooked lies to feed his three companion in the occasion they decide to inquiry him further about the matter of his sleep.
> 
>   
>  _Which part of me during that kind of pathetic state did they see last night, I wonder_. Usually there would be lots of gibberish he would be muttering on his sleep, a little bit scratching here and there, way too much sweats for normal person even during cold winter weather, and he would hurt his palm for unconsciously fisting them too hard all night long, leaving some minor wounds from his own nails biting into his skin.
> 
>   
>  _Ah yes, my hand, they are usually taking the worst hit_. He raised up both of his hand, to check them.
> 
>  
> 
> All clear, no bruise mark, no scratch, nothing.
> 
>   
>  _How did this happen?_
> 
>   
>  _Wait_.
> 
>   
>  Lǐn just realized, that his flesh, bumped into something, into someone else's body, while he raises his hand.
> 
>   
>  The realization dawned a little bit delayed on Lǐn's part, as he slowly turns around his body to the other way, as he is just realizing. There, he sees, Shāng is sleeping beside him, so peacefully, the sunshine lights up in a brisk behind him, as if like forming a halo.
> 
>   
>                          _Ah, so this is how_.
> 
>   
>  He let out a sigh and as he is carefully examining and as he is assessing the situation which he find himself upon, Lǐn is basking. He is basking on the warmth embrace of Shāng's presence beside him, behind him, carefully cooping him up, his body, unconsciously formed around him, trying to shield him from whatever harm way may coming against him. Lǐn let it washes all over his body. Despite knowing not whether he is deserving of receiving such warmth, despite unsure of whether it is alright for him to be embracing such radiance; in all too selfish manner, for _himself_ , out of all people.
> 
>   
>  Lǐn smiles, as he raises his hand, to put away a breadth of Shāng's ruffled, messy hair away from poking the wandering warrior eyes.
> 
>  

**—  ***  —**

 

 _I never cared about stuff like destiny, but_  
_This time, I'm forced to acknowledge it_

  
_Are you really okay with someone like me?_  
_Really, really? I don't want to let you get your hopes up about me_

 _So frustrated, what else can I do_  
_I want to sleep clinging on so tight to you_  
_that it's uncool, every day_

  
_No more promises_  
_Those are for making someone happy_

_(Utada Hikaru - **誓い** )_

**凜雪鴉** to 殤不患

 

 _How did I live in a kingdom of thieves_  
_And people who say things they don't really mean, really mean_

_I really don't get what everyone else believes  
So why do I say things I don't really mean _

  
_If you want to make it happen nothing's impossible_  
_All you gotta do is say the word_  
_Your walls will crumble_  
_If you want to make it happen nothing's impossible_

_(Utada Hikaru - **Don't Think Twice** )_

 殤不患 to  **凜雪鴉**

 

* * *

 

 **AN :**  
UGHHHHHH SO THIS IS A MESS *sweats nervously* yeah /I KNOW/ okay but some (a lot, actually) **disclaimer** :

  
**—** This fic is based on several headcanons I had during watching the cour of Season 2, which said headcanons are (also some Major Spoiler for Season2, just heads up), some of them, which are:

 

 

>   
>  **1)** Lǐn has been using his illusion on himself, to be able to sleep peacefully at night. So this Thief Vape Wizard; he is capable of some remorse of some shady bad things he did in his past at all, afterall (maybe, lol) so I headcanon him having the TBF-Verse equivalent of PTSD. So-- to avoid his guilts in the form of relentless nightmares hounding him on his sleep, he has been using Yān Yuè illusion trick on himself every time before he sleeps, but the catch is, Yān Yuè trick requires specific kind of herbs mixture (think of it as TBF-World equivalent of sleeping pills) and when he is careless and runs out of it, of course, Lǐn can not conjure said illusion to help him sleeping, hence the nightmare **;**
> 
>   
>  **2)** Shāng initially mentioned and deduced first that the herbs Lǐn was looking is for the purpose of Yān Yuè maintenance; while this does not directly plays into this fic plot, this is also one of my headcanon.
> 
> The fact that Season 2 highlights over and over again the underlying theme of the purpose of a 'tool'; and the fact that Seven Blasphemous Death undoing is the very sword that is brought upon together with her, and yet one that doesn't have a conscious will like herself (The Night of Mourning) just gives me so many ideas of the possibility on how tools (Holy Swords, The Sorcerous Sword Index, The Brush) in TBF-World works. Despite Shāng's guess was off about Lǐn needing the herb for Yān Yuè maintenance, it is still my headcanon that Yān Yuè needs maintenance (and the fact that Lin uses Yān Yuè and rebuilds it so many times, transforming it into chopsticks, matchstick, a bondage chain to his whatever whim and pleasure Lǐn PLEASE TREAT YOUR TOOLS BETTER DON'T OVERWORK IT TOO MUCH); albeit Yān Yuè maintenance falls a little more tedious and intricate compared to regular sword due to its very crafty and expedient nature, so Shāng was not very far off when deducing Yān Yuè needs some herbs, oils, minerals and so forth for its maintenance because yes— nothing but firts class treatment for Best Tool™.
> 
> Also, it gives me way too much fun comparing the swords and the tools of TBF-Verse into modern day objects like laptop, smartphone, etc, and comparing how we charge our phone, our laptop, to our TBF characters taking care about their weapons and/or tools, imagine Xiē Yīngluò on her scorpion farm, tending to them one by one each with care !!! or Shāng, as pissy as he is with unnecessary sword yapping, how he would occasionally pulls out The Sorcerous Sword Index to make sure it's okay ((and not ripped in half, maybe, cough-cough)) **;**
> 
>   
>  **3)** Lang is a light sleeper due to his sound-based ability, it is hard for him to fall asleep and yet so easy to wake him up as he is so easily jolted, baby needs more rest (ALSO I AM SORRY FOR NOT INCLUDING HIM MORE AAAA;; I SWEAR HE IS THE CUTEST MOST ADORABLE BOY I AM SO SORRY FOR SIDELINING HIM LIKE THIS IN THIS FIC I KNOW LANG FANS ARE FREE TO LYNCH ME I AM GUILTY) **;**
> 
>   
>  **4)** Yeah Seven Blasphemous Deaths is so far away on the bottom of that ravine, so think of her visiting Shāng in his sleep as her using her last up of magical energy reservoir to pay her nemesis one last visit along with a 'gift' before her timely rest (although I wouldn't put it past Urobuchi if somehow in the next installment some another character will actually go down that pit to picks her up and Lou's body or something).

  
**—** So yeah; I really hope that clears shits up lmao (I know this is so bad since I had to explain so many things by the end of this adjsahdjsahdjsdh I'm so sorry this is a huge mess). Since I had several of those headcanons, I decide it would be better to explore those headcanon by blending them together, and put them together in the form of a fiction set after the event of S02E13 instead writing them in an essay-explanatory form, and that's how this fic came to be.

I really really do apologize if any of you reading this think the characters are all too OOC (ie: Lǐn and Shāng is way too vulnerable for their own standard), and for the lack of proper grammar and any mispelling, I really am sorry. Thank you so much for sparing some of your time to be reading this little, mini fic of mine, I really am thank you! :D Happy New Year !!!

 

 

>   
>  — _**More**_ disclaimer, a far _more shameless_ version: Actually, headcanons aside or not, I JUST WANT TO WRITE LǏN IN A SUPER SUPER VULNERABLE STATE AND SHĀNG SEEING HIM IN SUCH AN AGONIZING STATE, AND I HAVE BEEN ITCHING TO WRITE LǏN'S DEATH SCENE WITH SHĀNG HELPLESSLY HOLDING ON TO HIS DEAD BODY SO THAT IS THE MAJOR REASON THIS FIC CAME TO BE HOHOHOHO **HAPPY NEW YEAR** MY FELLOW THUNDERBOLT FANTASY BRETHREN !!! I LOVE YOU GUYS VERY MUCH !!! I LOVE THIS FANDOM !!! I LOVE THUNDERBOLT FANTASY !!! _**HERE IS TO PROSPERING 2019 AND PROSPERING THUNDERBOLT FANTASY FANDOM**_!!!


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